Priorities
by Forensiphile
Summary: Jack gives Samantha an unexpected gift.


TITLE - Priorities  
  
AUTHOR - Devanie Maxwell  
  
RATING - PG  
  
CATEGORY - VRHA  
  
SPOILERS - Season One  
  
DISCLAIMER - I don't own these characters, but I'd like to. They're the property of CBS, Bruckheimer, and Hank Steinberg.  
  
NOTES - To M for the amazing support, the title, and the beta (and the great challenge. ), S who inadvertantly planted the seed for this story, and B for all the feedback and giving me one all important bit of dialogue. Oh, and thanks to Clay Aiken for keeping me company during the writing of this one. You all rock!   
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Can I shake it?"  
  
"You can shake it all you want, but I doubt it will do any good. It's not a video tape or an alarm clock."  
  
Samantha looked down at the wrapped package in her lap pensively. "Well, that kills some of the suspense."  
  
"Sorry." Jack sat on the couch next to her, taking a sip of his wine with one hand while grabbing the gift back with the other.  
  
"Hey!"  
  
"It's not midnight yet." He tucked the box between his leg and the arm of the couch.  
  
She shifted to face him. "That's a technicality. You didn't have to get me anything at all, you know."  
  
"I know."  
  
"But since you did, I'd like to know what."  
  
Jack sighed. "Patience, Sam." His eyes moved to where her boxer shorts ended and the light bandage on her leg began. His fingers grazed it lightly on their way back to neutral territory. "How does it feel?"  
  
"Same as always. Itchy. Tight. Unnecessary." She smiled and moved her foot back and forth as if to illustrate her mobility. At his skeptical look, she leaned into his shoulder, using the new vantage point to glance at the clock on the cable box. 11:52.  
  
A month had passed since the night in the bookstore, a little less since Jack had moved back in with his family. She had expected a distance to form between them. It never had. It was interesting; if anything they had grown closer. Where Jack would seldom visit her apartment even when they had a relationship, now he'd stop by two or three times a week. Always under the pretense of a question about a case or a lost file, of course, but never once was the subject of why he simply didn't call broached.  
  
They still worked together, even more now since she was confined to a desk. When they weren't in the office he would call. Never from his home phone, because wives don't generally approve of their husbands offering to bring their ex-mistresses ice cream or to drive them to the store.  
  
It was a chaste kind of courtship, somewhat complicated by the fact that their relationship was over and Jack's marriage wasn't.  
  
"Two more weeks. Then you can be back to shooting down Martin's theories and enduring Danny's sordid tales."  
  
Samantha snorted. "I think you're projecting."  
  
"Maybe."  
  
She took in his tie and jacket; he had obviously come from work. "I just realized I'm very underdressed."  
  
Jack shrugged. "Hey, it's your birthday."  
  
"Not many bosses bring their scantily-clad subordinates nicely wrapped presents."  
  
"Not many scantily-clad subordinates reciprocate their bosses' gesture with wine, either." He countered.  
  
"Touche."  
  
Samantha stretched. "Did you want anything to eat? I have...ice cream. Some kind of pasta in a box. Oh, and Chinese takeout from a couple nights ago."  
  
Shaking his head, Jack set his glass down on the coffee table. "Thank you, but no. Tempting offer, though."  
  
"It's midnight."  
  
"So it is." He picked up the package and deposited it back onto her lap. Only a second passed until Samantha was picking at the neat edges of the paper.  
  
"You didn't wrap this."  
  
Jack responded flatly. "It's observational skills like those that make you an asset to the Bureau."  
  
The cream and gold paper was stripped away quickly, leaving a plain brown box. Gingerly, she lifted the lid. Removing the tissue, she drew a sharp intake of breath. "Jack, I..."  
  
He interrupted. "Remember Chet Collins?"  
  
"Of course. He got his son back after a case of adoption fraud." Samantha said, wondering where this was going.  
  
"When Sean was returned, Chet gave me a medallion. St. Jude. He said that a priest had given it to him during the time his son was missing, but he realized that maybe it wasn't because Sean was lost--that maybe it was meant for him. In losing Sean he had lost himself."  
  
Samantha held the charm between her fingers, but said nothing as Jack continued.  
  
"I thought of you."  
  
"Patron saint of lost causes?" She asked lightly, her eyes never leaving the medal.  
  
Smiling, Jack looked at the floor. "Not exactly. I mean, that's what it represents, but that's not why I'm giving it to you." Her eyes turned serious and he continued. "I was thinking about what you had said a couple months ago. That you had run away as a kid and that just having someone go searching for you was enough to keep you from running away again."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Chet gave this to me because he thought I was lost. He had found what he was looking for, so he didn't need it anymore. I accepted it, but never really thought of what it really meant to him. I took it at face value."  
  
Samantha looked up. "Were you lost?"  
  
He stared at her. "I thought so." He paused. "Then I realized that maybe it was about more than that. Maybe it's a reminder to keep looking."  
  
"Searching for what you lost?"  
  
"Or what you could find."  
  
Nodding, she sounded uncertain as she asked, "Why are you giving it to me?"  
  
"I'm not looking for anything anymore."  
  
She glanced away for a moment. "Because you went home?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Why then?"  
  
"I think Chet gave me that medallion because it saved him, in a way. Just like it saved Sean. And I think, in the end, it saved me. It made me reevaluate my life. Realize how I had let everything suffer at the expense of my job. I started to put my priorities in order. My family in front of work, et cetera."  
  
Samantha exhaled and shook her head. "You don't need..."  
  
Waving off her words, he continued. "So, I told Marie that it was over between me and you. I wasn't ready to go back home, but I couldn't continue what we had if there was a hope of repairing the marriage. I had turn off my feelings for you. I was successful, for the most part."  
  
"No offense, but this is probably the most depressing gift I have ever received." She smiled weakly.  
  
"I'm not finished." He watched her expression change to one of trepidation and wondered if she realized it wasn't any easier on his side of the conversation. "I was successful until Barry Mashburn made me realize that feelings have less to do with priorities and more to do with instinct. Although I think that was the opposite of his intent."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"I walked into that bookstore with one purpose in mind. To get you out of there. I didn't think of my wife or my kids or even how pissed off Van Doran would get when she realized what I had done. I just acted. " He couldn't tell if Samantha looked touched or stricken by his admission.  
  
"Where does the medal come in?"  
  
"I remembered something Chet had said. I had told him I couldn't justify sending agents after every lead and he blew up. Said "Justify? What the hell is that?" He was right, but that day I had told him I had 'priorities.' That actually ran through my head after the hostage Barry released told me you were going to die in there. In a roundabout way, the medal saved you."  
  
"You saved me."  
  
Jack met her eyes for several seconds, surprised by the intensity there. He picked at a piece of lint on his pants. "Hey, If you want to minimalize my gift..."  
  
Samantha laughed nervously, the tension still hovering in the room. "It's the best gift I've gotten in a long time. Thank you." Her hand was resting on his knee now, and he knew she meant more than the necklace.  
  
They sat for a few minutes in silence, neither one quite sure how to move on from the discussion. Finally, Jack moved his hand over hers and gave it a light squeeze as he rose to his feet. "I better go."  
  
She stood slowly. "Yeah, it's getting late."  
  
They walked to the door together, saying nothing until Jack had his hand on the doorknob. He turned back. "See you at work tomorrow?"  
  
"Definitely."  
  
Turning back toward the foyer, she was suprised as he leaned down and planted a kiss on the side of her mouth. Too chaste for lovers, too...not...for friends. "Happy birthday, Samantha."  
  
Then he was gone.  
  
FIN 


End file.
